Lamantation in Rain
by Xekt
Summary: ON HAITUS - Sometimes, even if no one wants to admit it, we have to spend a portion of our time sitting in a pool of regret. Not everything will turn out to be right, and for those things we will often blame ourselves.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Lamentation in Rain  
**Author**: Xekt  
**Rating**: T - May go up in later chapters  
**Warning**: Future HPLV, RWHG, DMGW, character death(s)

**Summary**: Sometimes, even if no one wants to admit it, we have to spend a good portion of our time sitting in a pool of regret. Not everything will turn out to be right and for those things we will often blame ourselves. Sometimes, we are not truly at fault while at other times we are. We suffer for reasons we do not understand, and at times we slip away from the pain. Sometimes, we'll allow ourselves to hide behind the name 'coward' before striking. Hidden until the perfect opportunity.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own HP. I will never own HP. If I did, it wouldn't be recognized as the HP we know, and probably unfinished. I'm too lazy for my own good.

**Author's Notes**: I had spent roughly 6 hours walking in the rain yesterday. Since I grew up in a moist place, and now live in a desert, I've missed it dearly. This was a ramble of sorts. I saw a lot of myself in it for personal reasons. -_Don't laugh; I know I'm only 16 but there's been plenty I've regretted_-It's been well over a year, I believe, since I've posted anything on here. I hope I can convince myself to post other works that are currently rotting in my notebooks.  
I have decided to continue this yet I'm almost clueless how to do so. I wouldn't mind any ideas.

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Prologue

* * *

"_Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves - regret for the past and fear of the future._" - Fulton Oursler

* * *

Darkened green eyes turned upward, blinking quickly. Droplets meet his cheeks, forehead, chin, nose, slowly sliding down. The sky was dark; darker than usual. It must have been the rain clouds, as there was a certain lacking of stars.

As the droplets continued to slip down his cheek, they hanged onto his chin, trying desperately not to fall down to their doom. They all failed and one by one, they fell. Some caught on his shirt while others hit the ground with a song-like '_plop_'. Their rhythm of meeting the ground made the surroundings rather soothing, for this darkened day.

There wasn't anything in particular that he was staring at. He was more daydreaming, listening to the calm rain. His train of thought was in the past. He tried to grab and hold onto his dear memories, but they seemed to disappear, slipping away from his fingertips. There wasn't much more to hang on after they floated away.

After losing the precious moments in his life, horror-stricken dream-like memories filled his head. He violently shook his head, hoping to get rid of them but failed horribly. Soon screams and cries of pain echoed as all he could see were hundreds of thousands of people staring back at him. Their eyes all spoke of the same thing; betrayal.

That's what he did. He had_ betrayed _them.

He _destroyed_ their hopes and dreams for peace.

He was the one who had allowed everyone's dreams to_ burn _within their heads.

He was the one who had _left them _alone; left them to_ suffer _and in the end_ die in misery_.

He didn't try to stop it. He had given in and ran away. Disappeared from his troubles. He was a coward; he didn't deserve to still be alive.

The liquid which fell from the sky continued to slip off of his skin. He lowered his head, staring at the letter he held in his hand. He had seen plenty of these. They all said the same thing. They were all from the countless people he had deserted.

His emerald eyes started to dim slightly, almost losing focus on everything around him but the letter and the continuous cries in his mind.

The letter was covered in a number of drops. The ink was blurred, yet still readable. However he didn't have to read it. He knew what it said. He knew what every letter ever sent to him read. They all screamed at him in his mind. In addition to the fact that he had known the person who had sent this particular letter; it broke him.

The previous ones, he hadn't known the sender personally. He didn't owe them anything, not personally at least. They had all been from random people who thrust their faith upon him.

His grip weakened, the parchment falling to the ground. It landed in a puddle, suddenly becoming very fragile. But it held itself together; the words were strong enough. They wouldn't allow itself to be destroyed by mere water.

He turned his head up once more, trying to ignore the calls which cried out, echoing nonstop in his thoughts. His eyes were squeezed tightly, unable to halt the sob which arose from his mouth. His body shook; one would have thought it was simply the cold air tickling him. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes, threatening to pour out.

They were gone before they even came. The rain took care of that.

* * *

I'm almost positive that there's so many errors I missed. I only read it over once. I'm too tired to do any hardcore proofing.  
And yes, it's Harry if you couldn't guess. Review please  
X 


	2. Trepidation

**Disclaimer**: I do not own HP. I will never own HP. If I did, it wouldn't be recognized as the HP we know, and probably unfinished. I'm too lazy for my own good.

**Warning**: Set before OotP

**Notes**: Well, here it is. I decided to continue it. I had a difficult time deciding on how I wanted to continue this, but I believe I found a way.  
I don't know, honestly, what my plot will turn out for you, so don't worry! This'll be as much as a mystery to you as it is to me.

"speech"  
'_parseltongue_'

* * *

Chapter One - Trepidation **\\** a state of dread or alarm; apprehension

* * *

"_Nothing in the world is more dangerous than a sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity._" - Martin Luther King Jr.

* * *

"Prince, it'd be wise if you get inside rather than freeze to death."

Snapping his head down at the voice, Harry whirled around to find the deathly pale face of Snape staring back at him. The man raised an eyebrow, perhaps at the younger's appearance, before simply sneering as he turned away, walking briskly back down the path towards the manor which stood before Harry.

Harry's gaze never left the older man's back, staring in obvious embarrassment, hence his flushed face. He had been seen crying. He was horrified with himself. He was not to be seen as weak by anyone, especially Snape!

Snape, who had just reached the doorway, paused to wave his hand carelessly. His voice drawled on, speaking only loud enough for Harry to hear as he unconsciously broken the rain's song once more.

"The Dark Lord wishes to see you. Might I suggest drying off first?"

With that said, the other disappeared into the building, leaving Harry alone once again. A sigh escaped his parted lips as he turned back around, leaning down to pick up the parchment which laid momentarily forgotten in the water. He gently cradled it in his hand, careful not to tear it. He closed his eyes for a second, concentrating on organizing his thoughts. Opening his jaded eyes, relief flooding his face, he made his way to the warm building.

'_Sssuppossse I ssshould dry off before I catch a cold.._' The hiss was muttered under his breath. Something wiggled in his right coat sleeve. A serpentine head poked out, its tongue flickering about.

'_Sssurely you will dry off sssomewhere warm? It'sss too cold for my tassstesss._'

Falling silent, the head disappeared within the warmth of his sleeve. Harry gave a faint smile before opening the door to the manor.

**xxxx**

The gentle ticking of an ancient grandfather clock was the only noise within a rather large and rather empty study. Shelves lined all four walls, framing the few paintings which hung, windows covered in velvet green curtains, and the two doorways which lead to who-knows-where. Upon the shelves laid hundreds of books from every subject and every language, with an occasional dark artifact for show.

The decor was quite simple. The wood was mahogany. From the floor to the shelves to the picture frames to the few furnishings that laid around; all were made of the dark-red wood. A dark green rug with a silver border was laid before a vast fireplace. The flames were low, leaving most of the room cloaked in dancing shadows.

Fingers tapped the surface of the mahogany desk, drawing attention to the desk which stood in a corner. Papers and books completely engulfed the desk and the floor around the said desk. Long, thin white fingers were all that was seen through the towers of parchment. Those fingers paused at their beat, lifting a silver quill to stroke softly.

A soft cough, and then a tumbling of papers caused crimson eyes to glow in the dark. "Damnit! A bloody waste of four hours!"

The sorted piles all fell one by one, revealing a pissed off Voldemort. Even as a Dark Lord, he still had his fair share of official papers. It irritated him to no end, leaving his nights full of frustration which he easily relieved with torture.

Now he just wanted to kill someone.

He stood in fury, his fingers brushing amongst glass. He paused in his wrath, sparing a glance at what he had touched. A photograph. He slowly lowered himself to his black leathered seat, his mind beginning to wander to a young man in his care.

The boy was merely fifteen years of age, yet he was viewed as the one who would defeat him and be the world's savior? Then again, there was a great amount of power, pure energy, stored within him. Even before he is of age, the child is a threat to him; and after…

A chill ran down Voldemort's spine. No, he didn't want to think of that.

The grandfather clock on the other side of the room chimed. Once, twice, up to all twelve times. '_Sssixteen yearsss old_' he corrected himself mentally. A faint smirk, one that could be misinterpreted as a smile, ghosted his lips as he came up with something to free him from this horrid paperwork. Sparing a glance at the said papers, he was sorely tempted to burn it to ashes.

However, before he could do such a thing, a knock stole his attention.

"Enter."

The doors opened soundlessly, revealing a pale lanky man who lacked the common white mask. One of his inner circle. Severus, to be precise. Voldemort's eyes landed on the lone figure, curious as to why he was here. There wasn't another meeting for a few days, and he hasn't been notified of any recent attacks...

"My Lord, I have sent for Prince, since you've... Probably forgotten..." The corner of Voldemort's lips twitched as he released a shallow laugh. Who better to be both on top of things than Severus; not to mention always getting straight to the point.

"Ah, yes. Of course. Thank you Severus. Where would I be without you."

Although it wasn't a question, Snape couldn't help but to retort with a soft "Certainly not here", his form still bent over in a submissive bow. Voldemort stood, causing Snape's head to jerk up suddenly before being lowered again.

"My greatest apologizes, my Lord, for speaking u-" "Severus."

Lifting his head slowly, Snape's black eyes landed on his Lord who stood before him. His pale bony hand was outstretched, being offered to him. A tad confused, Snape hesitantly laid his hand upon the other, finding himself sharply pulled to his feet.

"Severus, you are not a Death Eater, let alone a slave. You don't need to clean the floor with your robes; there are plenty of scums who'll do so."

A strict nod showed his understanding as Snape released his Lord's hand. He was puzzled with his Lord's kindness, but made no comment. He didn't want to change it and have the chance of getting himself tortured as a result to the Dark Lord's wrath.

As if sensing his fellow dark wizard's confusion, Voldemort smirked, speaking to clarify.

"You are my equal, Severus. If I did not have those who I trusted, then I certainly would not be able to remain where I am today without being overthrown. It is always good to have a few who will back me up. I consider the inner circle my colleagues; ones who will never stray from my lead, back me up when I need it, and criticizes me at other times. Do you understand?"

A highly unnoticeable dip of the head showed that he did. Voldemort's mood brightened a bit. He continued to stand, soaking in what he could of his good mood before continuing.

"On your way out, could you stop by Prince's room and tell him to dress warmly? I believe it'll be quite cold out tonight..."

The dismissal was obvious. With a short, curt bow, Snape backed out of the room, the tall doors swinging shut quietly behind him.

His long strides brought him down the hall in the direction of the Prince's rooms. He didn't want to anger his Lord by neglecting to care for the boy if he were in danger of catching a cold, even if he had just been told of being the Dark Lord's equal. He sure as hell did not want to be the one to test that statement.

A scoff slipped past his lips as he shook his head slowly. Potter was going to find himself in a tight spot soon, if he didn't feel the pressure already, that is. Judging by his earlier appearance though, it seemed as if the young man had.

**xxxx**

Oversized wooden doors slammed open, revealing a dripping wet Prince holding a soaked parchment. He had to fight long and hard with the house elves to get them to leave him alone. They wanted to take the paper and his coat, but he refused. He didn't think they'd start throwing themselves at him.

Letting out a growl of annoyance, he walked over to a large desk standing before huge bay windows. Currently they were covered in ruby curtains, but during the day... It surely was a sight to see.

He carefully placed the wet letter on the desk, slipping his wand out of his holster strapped to his leg to cast a drying charm on it. In an instant, the water seemingly evaporated, leaving the paper with its somewhat blurred words. A sigh slipped past his lips, a flick of his wrist opened the lowest drawer the desk contained. Inside, it was already filled with letters from the past.

He gently placed it atop the stack. As he went to close it, he paused momentarily to glance at it again. The name 'Dean Thomas' glared up at him in blotchy black ink. A sudden rapping at his door caused him to slam the drawer shut, casting several locking charms on it. Within seconds he slipped his wand into his holster, tossed his robe to the ground, and grabbed the distraught snake from his pocket.

"C-come in!"

One door opened, Snape striding in. His glance switched from Harry, to the snake hissing angrily in his hands, to the robe lying messily on the ground. He glared at the latter.

"You do know you could keep the place a little neater. I'm sure the Dark Lord would prefer it if you didn't give the house elves years worth of work just doing your laundry."

Harry inwardly cursed himself, hissing a loud '_quiet_' at the snake which was currently throwing a fit. In returned, it bit his finger, causing Harry to yelp and toss the serpentine onto his bed. Royally pissed, his slipped his harmed finger into his mouth to suck on the nip but found it jerked away. He stared up at Snape as he pulled his hand into his own, looking over it.

"Sit."

Not bothering to question the potions master, he did as he was told sitting on a chair which stood beside the bed. Snape pulled a leather case from within his robes, placing it in the bedside table. Harry had seen this before. The Potion's Master had used it several times during the Final Battle. It even saved his life then, and here it was again, saving him once more.

He began to lose focus on what the man was doing. His mind was stuck on the Final Battle. How he slowly showed what side he was truly on. Dumbledore's reaction was both priceless and heartbreaking.

"Prince? Prince? Pr-Potter, listen to me!"

Numbness began to spread from his fingertips to his arm. Soon it felt like he was in another's body. This wasn't right. The snake's poison wasn't deadly, was it? It wouldn't try to kill him; it was a gift from Tom. He was just in a rush; surely it heard his hisses of apologizes.

He tried to lift his head to look at Snape. Tried to open his mouth to tell what had happened. Tried lifting his hand to push Snape away from him. He couldn't do anything. Soon the yelling in his ear faded to an eerie quietness.

The last thing he saw was blood red eyes stared back at him. A mix of concern, anger, and something else swirled within those bright eyes. They were so bright. Unaware, a smile crossed his lips as the world became black.

* * *

A/N: Well.. The ending seemed a little rushed, at least to me. I welcome any suggestions.  
It's 1:11am.(Yay). I promised to update this weekend, and with a research project hanging over my head I decided to stay up to finish and submit this. So between the time, and the cold I have, I'm a bit brain dead. I've had well over half of it written all week, just couldn't find the inspiration to finish it.  
Please review and/or flame! Constructive flame if you don't mind. Till next update- 'cha. 


	3. Author's Note

_My greatest apologies for having no sort of updates these past few months._

_Mid-Feburary, I fell ill practically unable to move, eat, ect. I spent several weeks in the hospital, then over a month bedridden at home. As soon as I was well enough to attend school, I had months and months of makeup work thrust upon me._

_School's finally ended, although I can't say I did well and caught up sadly, and will try to return to this story and others, but I have a feeling this summer will be overwhelmed with too much stuff. (I'm still have.. Medical, computer, school, family issues; ha.)_

_Until then._

_**X**_


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